


Something to Live For

by Treebeardy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treebeardy/pseuds/Treebeardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Arya and Gendry leave Yoren and head off to Winterfell on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something to Live For

The large, black-haired boy was much larger than the others. He stood back a few feet, his gaze intent on Yoren. He had the build of a bully; she'd seen them before at Winterfell. They figured because they were bigger they could do as they liked. Arya hated bullies. The only reason they never picked on her, despite her slight build, was her last name. But she was Arry now, and she had nothing but Needle and her wits as protection.

The raggedy band of boys sneered at her as Yoren introduced her as their newest recruit for the Wall. They were all taller than her, some rounder but few as well fed. They eyed her with mistrust and even dislike in some cases; only one face was neutral. The large one in the back eyed her with interest and she shifted from foot to foot. She knew no one would recognize her, but logic couldn't settle her heart as it beat in her chest. Before she knew it, Yoren left and the boys scattered, a few staying behind to throw taunts at her. A round little boy eyed her clothes. She hoped her disguise would hold.

"Lemme see your sword," the round boy demanded. She shook her head. "It's probably just a stick." He turned to smile at his small companion. Arya stamped down her desire to draw Needle on the little brat. It was probably for the better if they thought a wooden stick hung on her belt. No one knew about Needle, at least no living person. Still, it was a beautiful sword and obviously expensive. She would have to fight him off without Needle and the boy weighed much more than her. She would win, but she would have to fight dirty.

"Leave him alone," she heard the large boy rumble. The fat boy spat on the ground, but ambled off with his friend without a word. The fat boy was large, but his body was soft and doughy where the dark-haired boy was hard and strong. She studied him thoughtfully, expecting him to demand her sword for himself. He looked at her for a moment but turned around and walked away so that she stood alone in the clearing.

They left King's Landing the next day. Most of the boys were soft from life in the city and they trailed behind the wagon, mumbling and cursing the whole way. Arya was used to chasing after cats, and walking at a wagon's pace was easy. Gendry, as she'd learned the dark haired boy was called, walked next to her in silence. She was grateful for the silence. Her heart was heavy and she didn't think she was capable of speaking on the weather or the city gossip as if everything was okay. Gendry didn't seem very talkative. Anyone walking by would probably assume the odd pair were mutes. When they stopped to eat and sleep for the night, Gendry placed his bedroll near hers.

Sleep overtook her quickly and before she knew it, she was rising before dawn and packing up her things. Arry and Gendry quickly slipped into a routine walking next to each other during the day in comfortable silence and placing their bedrolls near each other at night.

"Are you going to miss King's Landing?" he asked her.

She didn't even need to think of an answer. "No." Her voice was quiet but firm, "I hated it, with the crowded streets and everyone shut inside like animals. I'm glad I'll never go back there. What about you?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've never been anywhere else. There was nothing there for me. No family and all that."

Arya didn't respond; the topic of family was a dangerous one and she quickly closed her mind to that branch of thinking. "What did you do in the city?" She tried to steer the conversation away from talk of families.

"I was an apprentice to a blacksmith." That's where his muscles came from. He didn't elaborate and she didn't question him further. She was nervous about her own cover story. They fell back into silence, but when they stopped for the night they spoke to each other as they set up their rolls.

They rarely spoke of their past lives. Neither seemed interested in rehashing old stories.

Slowly, Arya grew more comfortable around the large boy. Yoren commented that she had chosen well for a friend. Gendry was the only one of the lot who wouldn't throw her to the lions at the first chance. Yoren's approval confirmed what she had slowly begun to accept, that Gendry had honor and could be trusted.

Arya woke up, her bladder screaming. She hadn't been able to sneak away to relieve herself before she fell asleep. She slipped out of her bedroll and ran, quiet as a cat, into the bushes. She emptied her bladder with a large sigh. She slipped back into her bed roll as silently as she could. She was sure she saw the gleam of the fire reflected in Gendry's eyes. He remained silent and unmoving and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next day she was sure she could feel Gendry stealing looks at her all day. They barely talked, and she would feel someone watching her but when she turned to glare at him he was staring everywhere but at her.

Arya tried to remain calm. She told herself there was no way he could have possibly figured out Arry was actually a girl.

That night she waited for what felt like hours after everyone was asleep before she slipped out to relieve herself. She listened carefully, and only heard the steady breathing of sleeping bodies. She stared hard at Gendry's back until she was certain he was asleep. Without making a sound, she was off making her way into the trees.

She had just finished as she heard a rustle in the bushes. She straightened, and yanked her breeches up around her waist. She spun and saw the large shadowy shape. She could barely make out the person's features in the faint moonlight but she knew who it was.

"Hello Gendry." She tried to act nonchalant. "What are you doing up so late?" She went to brush past him, but he grabbed her arm halting her movement. She yanked her arm, but his grip was firm and she couldn't pull away. She didn't know what to say, there was no logical explanation for why she had gone so far away from the fire in the middle of the night.

"I wa-" He cut her off before she could start to form a lie.

"What I want to know," his words were clipped, "is why a girl is travelling with a company of rapers, murderers and thieves." She avoided his gaze. He was staring right through her and for a moment she was sure he knew anything.

"I'm not a girl." She stared at the toe of her boot. Her protest sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"I'm not stupid." She knew he wasn't stupid. He was quiet, and people often mistook his silence for some mental deficiency.

"I wouldn't say stupid, maybe bull-headed." He didn't even react to her joke. She realized with dread that he was going to require an answer and the only one she could think of was the truth.

She thought about what Yoren had said about trusting Gendry. She either had to trust her instincts or she had to try to come up with a believable lie. She looked up at Gendry's stony face and decided that she should trust him.

"My name is not Arry." She wasn't quite how to start her story. "I was born Arya Stark of Winterfell. My father, Eddard Stark, was the Hand of the king, and he was beheaded for treason." It took him a second to process her words. She watched as he realized what she had said. Gendry looked shocked and horrified. He yanked his grip off of her arm and stumbled back a step away from her.

"You're a lady?" His voice rose shrilly at the end of the question.

"Shhh. No one can know." She waited with bated breath to see if she had judged him wrong. Would he run off to the rest of the group shouting 'traitor'?

"My father wasn't a traitor. He was a good man. After they killed him I had to get out of the city so Yoren helped sneak me out with you lot. You can't let anyone know who I am, Gendry."

"I'm not an idiot Arry. Ehh.. Arya?" He still looked uncertain. and then horrified in a flash. "You've seen my cock, Arya. Shit, you're just a little girl." He sounded distressed at his own conduct, but Arya grew angry at his response.

"You have to call me Arry, and treat me like any one of the other boys. You're going to get me killed." He shook his head as if to clear it and looked at her. He nodded once.

"So I shouldn't stand every time you enter a room milady?" She looked up to check that he was joking, but punched him in the shoulder anyways.

"Shut up, you bull-headed boy. Let's go back to camp before someone misses us."

Oddly, she felt like a burden had been lifted from her as she drifted into sleep.

Gendry stayed mostly silent the next day. They were gathering wood for the fire that night when Arya looked up to find Gendry watching her intently.

"What?" She was fed up with his staring at her, when he thought she wasn't looking.

"I was just wondering what you plan on doing when we get to the Wall? You can't be a brother of the Night's Watch." He chuckled. "There's no privacy, you'd be found out before a day passed."

"I'm going to Winterfell," she told him. "I'm going home."

"I'll go with you, then." He said, his voice was calm and sure.

"You want to come with me to Winterfell?" She looked up in surprise. He nodded once.

"Someone needs to protect your skinny self."

She knocked his wood out of his arms. "I can protect myself," she insisted. She stomped off towards camp, but turned around to see Gendry laying on his side, chuckling at her. He hadn't even bothered to pick up the wood.

"You really want to go with me?" She kept her voice neutral.

He nodded once. "I'm willing to bet it's better than the Wall. Even with you there to bug me." She still wasn't used to Gendry teasing her so much. Out of habit, she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Fine. You can come." She spun on her heel and stomped back to camp. It wasn't until an hour later that she realized with a start that she truly wasn't alone anymore. Gendry was with her, and soon she would be home with Robb, Bran and Rickon. She was even looking forward to seeing her mother, who would probably die of shock at seeing Arya in such rags.

The peace didn't last very long. She heard the shrill whistle from one of the scouts to announce armed forces were approaching. The boys fell into chaos, unsure of what to do.

Arya looked around in panic, searching for Gendry's black hair. She made eye contact with him and they were standing side by side in moments. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. Men were here from King's Landing; they both knew they had come to take Arya back. She fought back panic. She wouldn't go back to that lion pit without a fight. Arya fingered the hilt of Needle nervously as the riders from King's Landing approached their group.

She felt a hand settle on her shoulder and squeeze it reassuringly. She looked up into the face of her only friend. Gendry smiled grimly.

"Don't worry, Arry. I'll protect you." Arya was grateful for the sentiment, but there was only so much an unarmed, untrained blacksmith apprentice could do against six fully armed warriors.

They both watched with bated breath as Yoren walked forward to meet the riders.

"You are harboring a fugitive from King's Landing. We're here for Gendry." Gendry gripped her shoulder tighter. She resisted the urge to turn around and look at him.

"These men are for the Wall." Yoren sounded strong to Arya's ears.

"The Queen says otherwise." Yoren craned his neck to look around the rider.

"Is she here right now? All I see is six soldiers coming up against forty armed men." Yoren called back to the group, "What do you lot see?" They all roared. Arya even heard one of the younger boys her age lower his voice an octave to sound menacing.

"We'll be back with more men," the soldier assured Yoren. With a shout, the riders were galloping back down the road.

When they were out of sight, Arya turned on Gendry, questions brimming out of her.

"What does the queen want with you?" Her tone was clearly one of disbelief. Gendry's face darkened.

"I don't know, milady. I'm sorry if my ignorance inconveniences you in any way." Arya glanced around quickly to see if anyone heard him.

"Shut up, you bull-headed boy. Someone will hear you!" He looked slightly chastened.

"I really have no clue why." He shrugged his broad shoulders helplessly. "My master told me men were asking about me and I needed to get out of King's Landing as soon as possible. This lot seemed the easiest way to do that."

For the rest of the night, some of the men glanced at Gendry with appraising looks. It made Arya nervous. She woke up from a light sleep, a hand pressed over her mouth. She gasped for breath preparing to scream. With a start, she realized that it was Yoren. She stilled her body and he pulled his hand away. He pressed one finger to his lips.

"If they come back with more men, I won't be able to keep you or Gendry safe," he whispered. "You two need to make for Winterfell on your own. I'll make it look like you two ran off south in the night so the lads won't be able to tattle on you even if they want to. I have some food packed for you, but you need to leave tonight." Arya listened carefully. 'Map?' she mouthed to him. "In the pack," he assured her. "Gendry is about ten yards that way," he pointed. "Go now. May the old gods and the new keep you safe."

She gathered her pack quietly, pausing to hug Yoren briefly before dashing off into the night after Gendry. Gendry thought she was the one who needed protecting, but he didn't know that she was a wolf. Wolves protected themselves. Gendry was a bull. A big, kind bull who the queen wanted to dead for some reason.

It was time for the wolf to protect the bull.


	2. Something to Argue About

"Here," Arya gasped out. She collapsed against the trunk of a tree between two large roots. They propped her up. Even though she sagged against the roots, she remained sitting upright. Gendry grunted his approval of her decision and swayed on his feet.

They had travelled through the night, all the way through the day and well into the next night. They were fit from their travels north to the Wall, but they were still young and even their hardened bodies had limits.

"Fire?" Gendry grunted. Arya shook her head no. The night was warm enough, and dawn approached. They would not need the extra warmth. He nodded, grateful that he wouldn't have to do any work.

Gendry had carried Arya on his back often at first. If anyone followed the pair, they would be thrown off by the number of tracks that led north. It had been Arya's idea, and Gendry had grumbled the whole time that she was awfully heavy for her age.  
He dropped to his knees and crawled over to where Arya was sitting. He lay down using her lap as a pillow. His body heat warmed her legs. Gendry was snoring in an instant, and his chest rumbled against her thighs. He snored quietly enough that she wasn't worried he would betray their location to prying ears.

Arya tried desperately to stay awake and watch for trouble. Her eyelids felt heavy, and though she resisted sleep came to her quickly.

The morning came quickly, and Arya woke as light glinted through the treetops. Arya felt sweat drip down her back, her body was on fire. She made to sit up and realized she was weighted down. Her eyes flashed open.

Gendry had moved during the night. His upper body laid across her legs and his head rested on her chest. He had wrapped both arms around her torso during the night as if he was Rickon's age and she was a favorite stuffed toy.

Arya felt an uncomfortable tingle in her right leg. Almost all of his weight was on it, deadening her nerves. She marvelled at the fact that they had slept at all in that position, let alone the whole night. Her back was stiff, but she felt well-rested.

She looked down at Gendry sleeping peacefully and smiled. His face was softer when he slept. He looked like any other boy of fifteen. She wished she could let him sleep, but they had already slept well past dawn and they needed to keep moving.

She brushed a lock of his black hair out of his face. "Gendry, wake up." He made a snuffling sound in his sleep, and nuzzled his face deeper into her stomach. She shook his shoulder. His body tensed as he regained consciousness.

He lifted his head, gaze directed downward. His eyes darted up to her face and back down to where his head had lay. He scrambled off of her, and fell backwards in the dirt.

"I'm sorry, milady. I don't know what came over me. I must have fallen asleep on you," he said. Gendry sounded panicked. Arya frowned, she had no idea why he was babbling. She threw a clod of dirt at him.

"What are you apologizing for?" she asked.

"We shouldn't have slept together," he said, and winced at his wording. "Next to each other! We shouldn't have slept next to each other."

Arya rolled her eyes. That's what he was worried about. "Don't be silly," she chided. She tried to stand, but cried out as pins and needles stabbed through her leg.

Her mother told her about sex when she was eight. One of the maids had found her wrestling with one of the cook's sons. She had been brought before her mother, who had been stern as always. Proper noble ladies did not roughhouse with little boys, she was told. When Arya refused to obey without being told why, Catelyn had explained about sex and how people would talk if they saw her tumbling about with boys. It simply was not something ladies did. It seemed silly to Arya then, and it seemed silly to her now.

"Is this about sex?" she asked frankly.

"What?" Gendry sputtered. His reaction confirming her suspicions.

"There's no one out here to see us," she explained. "And anyways, all we did was sleep next to each other. Please don't apologize, and don't call me a lady!"

"How does a proper little lady like you know about sex stuff?" He waved vaguely in her direction. He had calmed down, and his voice teased her.

"I'm not a lady anymore," she insisted. She ignored his question. A wry smile tugged at his lips. They both let the conversation drop as they gathered their packs and headed North.

The path they took North was as direct as Arya could make it, which meant not very direct at all. There were many cottages, farms, trails and roads for them to avoid.

Gendry often asked Arya how she could tell their location. Arya tried to explain to Gendry how to read the maps they had been given, but he gave up in disgust after he failed for the third time.

Arya was unfamiliar with the countryside. It was very different from the land around Winterfell. Some of the differences she was grateful for. The biting cold, for one, was absent. There were many nights they didn't even require their small fire.

She was, however, used to the being outdoors. She felt more at home travelling north with Gendry than she ever had in King's Landing. In the wild, she was free to laugh and curse and spit without fear of reprimand from the septas.

The land did remind Arya slightly of Winterfell. She remembered sneaking out of the keep as a child and disappearing into the countryside for hours or even whole days. Her mother had always been frantic when she returned, sure that Arya had been gravely injured. Catelyn was never able to understand why Arya would want to spend time outside instead of sewing.

Back then, Arya had laughed at her mother's worries, certain in the knowledge that no harm could befall a Stark. Arya shook her head at the naive little fool she had been. She knew now that no one was safe from death's clutches, especially not the Starks.

It didn't take long for Arya to realize that while she was fairly familiar with life outside of walls, Gendry was not. He had been born and raised in King's Landing. His life had not been easy, but he had been a blacksmith's apprentice. That gave him little reason to leave the safety of King's Landing's walls.

Gendry had never learned to thieve, Arya was sure of that. He had no idea how to move quietly. His footsteps were loud as hammers. Arya cringed as she could hear him crashing through branches behind her. Not everybody had the free time to spend chasing cats, she supposed.

One thing they shared, was the fact that neither was used to so little food. Arya had never in her life gone hungry, and Gendry though he had been poor had been well fed by his master. Their stomachs ached with emptiness.

Arya was the first to realize that no matter how little food they ate, their stores would not last long enough to get them even half way to Winterfell. Their weapons were few. Arya had Needle and Gendry had a clumsily made broadsword and dagger. Even if they knew how to hunt, they had nothing to hunt with. Trapping was impossible as Arya had seen it done many times by her brothers, she had no clue how to set a trap. Neither could she throw the dagger well enough to kill a was familiar with some of the plants in the area, but many more were unknown to her and she knew better than to eat something unless you were sure of what it was. Unless they wanted to starve, there was only one real option. They would have to steal food as they travelled north.

"No," Gendry said immediately. Arya was surprised. She hadn't expected him to react so negatively when she brought up the idea.

"We don't have a choice," she said. She was puzzled. "I don't understand why you would object to it."  
Gendry's mouth tightened into an grimace. "Of course you wouldn't. Nobles think little of stealing from poor folk who are already worse off. My lady has never wanted for anything in her life, why would she balk at stealing from poor folk who can barely feed themselves?" He was ignoring her and speaking the air around himself. Arya felt her blood rush to her cheeks.

"I don't give a shit about nobility," she spat, her own fury rising in her chest. "I care about surviving. We can take a little here and a little there, no more than will be missed. I'd rather live an ignoble thief than die a noble death." Arya squirmed under his gaze. She would not apologize for wanting to live. Gendry spun on his heel without another word and stomped off to gather wood for their small fire.

They didn't speak about it again, but the next night when they happened upon a small farm, Arya instructed Gendry to hide and snuck up to the neat yard. She stole a little, only a few apples and a wedge of cheese. She could have easily taken more, but Gendry's voice in her head was her conscience, and she left the rest of the food.

Gendry wouldn't speak to her for a day after that first time. She tried to contain her hurt. He acted like she had robbed the poor family of everything they had. She wanted to tell him that she could have taken more but refused to be the first one to break the silence. She wouldn't be made to feel bad for trying to survive.

Eventually, he spoke to her again, but their conversation was strained. They didn't speak of their argument or acknowledge it in any way. Arya didn't even really understand it. She knew it had something to do with honor. Unlike Gendry, Arya knew how feeble honor truly was. Honor would not feed them if they were starving, or protect them from the cold bite of steel. Arya didn't tell Gendry this. Let him keep his illusions, she thought.

They passed various farms as they traveled on. Arya raided many of them, but some she let be. She made sure to never take more food than was necessary. She was sorely tempted at times, but she would remember her large friend's honor and she would refrain.

It was a week before Gendry relented and ate any of the food that she stole. Gendry looked so miserable as he ate the slice of cheese that Arya had no desire to gloat. Her victory was a hollow one. She couldn't help but feel as though she had killed something inside of him.

They fell into a pattern as they marched north. Arya would study the maps, plotting their course to avoid major settlements, marking their passage as they went, and stealing food when she could. Arya expected Gendry's mood to lighten as they travelled farther from danger and closer to safety. Instead, he seemed to get more sullen the longer they travelled.

Finally, she threw down the gauntlet. "What is your problem?" she asked as Gendry ripped half a loaf of bread savagely into pieces. "Are you still upset about the food?"

Gendry paused to look up at her and glare. "I'm fine."

Arya rolled her eyes. People thought females were the moody ones, if she hadn't known better she'd think Gendry was having his moonblood. She had no clue why Gendry was still so out of sorts. She tried to bother him as little as possible, hoping his mood would pass.

That night when they stopped to make camp, Arya followed Gendry as he gathered wood. She picked out small branches and twigs to use as kindling. When Gendry realized what she was doing, he threw his pile of branches at her feet.

"Here you go, my lady." He snarled. "Why don't you pick out which logs are the right logs and take them back to camp?" Arya froze.

"I was only trying to help." She didn't like how small her voice sounded.

"I can't do anything right can I, my lady? Do you need to supervise me as I piss now? Would you like to make sure I'm holding my cock right? Do you want to hold it for me?"

"Why are you yelling at me? I was only trying to help!" She was half shouting herself at that point. Gendry smiled cruelly, and Arya was confused by the malice in his face.

"Why am I even here? Just so you can have someone to boss around, my lady?"

"Stop calling me a lady!" She was shouting at him as loudly as she could. She dropped her bundle, holding onto one branch. She threw it at him and ran the other direction. She ran for a while, and climbed up a tree.

She tried to calm her breathing down like Syrio taught her. She wasn't winded from the running, she was so angry at Gendry that she was literally out of breath. She replayed their conversation in her mind over and over again. A picture of the last week began to form in her mind. She had been the one doing everything. Never once had she asked Gendry for help in anything. She remembered how useless she had felt when her father was murdered. She would have given anything for a purpose or task to do. Here she had been treating Gendry like a child to be coddled. Worse still, she was younger than him and a girl.

She had four brothers, she knew well that boys hated when she was better at things than them. Bran had often resented her skill on a horse and with a bow.

Arya also knew about the games girls played with boys, acting like pretty little fools who need saving. She always thought those games ridiculous. She was as capable as any boy. She needed no saving.

She could not and would not act helpless just so that Gendry could feel needed. Men's egos were delicate, but her pride was too strong for such foolishness. She also forced herself to admit that if she were in Gendry's position, she would be just as resentful.

Arya heard footsteps and froze on her perch. She held her breath as a familiar mop of raven hair travelled underneath her branch. He surveyed the clearing. Arya felt something loosen in her chest. Gendry had not abandoned her. He had come looking for her. She felt a tightness in her chest and realized that keeping Gendry with her was more important than keeping her pride.

"Hello." She called down. Gendry spun searching for her voice. "I'm up here." Gendry tilted his face upward finding her quickly. He looked instantly relieved to see her.

"Come down, you monkey girl." She didn't feel like shimmying back down the trunk, but the drop was too far to do unassisted.

"Catch me?" She half expected him to refuse her request, but he nodded up at her. He held his arms up to her.

"Hurry up, my lady. I don't have all day." She ignored his comment and lowered herself so that she dangled from the branch. She glanced down to make sure he was below her. She let go, feeling her stomach dropping for a second before she felt Gendry's hands close tightly around her waist. The breath was knocked out of her a little as he squeezed her around the ribs and slowed her fall.

He held her easily by the waist a foot off the ground so that they were at the same eye level. He looked serious. "I thought you were gonna leave me," he said. His voice was an octave lower than normal. She didn't know what to say to him at first. She figured the truth couldn't hurt.

"I thought you wanted me to leave," she told him truthfully. Arya was in unfamiliar territory here. She could feel tears welling in her eyes and she resisted the urge to cry. She wanted to look anywhere but at Gendry, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

"Well I didn't. I don't," he added, as an afterthought.

"Good, I don't want to leave," she admitted. He lowered her to the ground, but pulled her into a deep hug. She hadn't expected him to do that. She couldn't remember the last time someone had hugged her. A tear rolled down her cheek onto his shirt. She tried to push away from him, but he was strong.

"No more running away," he told her. She nodded into his chest and he loosened his arms. She pulled back, rubbing tears from her eyes.

They didn't talk about what had happened. Arya made more of an effort to include Gendry asking him about supplies they would need and having him help her plan the route.

They had a few days of relative peace with which to rebuild their camaraderie. Arya felt uneasy around him for a day or so, embarrassed by her outburst of emotion, but she recovered. They found a caravan of wealthy traders one day and Arya had snuck in easily, grabbing enough to supplies to last them a whole week. There surplus of good fortune lightened both of their moods.

Gendry was more talkative than usual, and Arya found herself sharing stories of her childhood and being the middle child. Gendry laughed at her tales of all the mischief she got into with Jon as a child, but she could only talk about him a little. She missed him terribly.

Gendry told her about the little he remembered of his mother. He told her about growing up a bastard, which only made her think of Jon more. He told her how he had been a skinny, underfed child until the day he'd been offered an apprenticeship with the blacksmith. He told her that he'd never wielded a sword before, to which she insisted on giving him lessons. He learned to fight quickly, and they started sparring at night with pretend swords.

He even told her about Jeyne Miller who was the baker's daughter. He told her how she would toss him a roll with a wink every time he came by even though her father would yell at her when he found a roll missing.

"Why'd she do that?" Arya asked. Gendry looked uncertain.

"She just liked me is all," he said eventually.

"Were you good friends?" she continued. She would have given Mycah a loaf if he'd still been alive. Gendry glanced away again, he took his time replying.

"Not really," he admitted. Arya shook her head confused.

"I used to flirt with her, and she would give me rolls," he explained.

"She liked you that way?" Arya didn't mean to sound so surprised. Gendry narrowed his eyes in a way that told her he wasn't amused. Arya stopped in her tracks and surveyed him. She'd never thought of how others must see Gendry. He was tall and strong, with a thick head of raven hair. Arya supposed he was handsome enough. He was quiet, but he would laugh easily once you got to know him. He was loyal and kind. He was honest. It wasn't hard to imagine other girls would want to flirt with him.

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked. She could tell he was offended.

"I guess not. Did many girls like you that way?" she asked. She couldn't help but be curious about this new aspect of Gendry she hadn't known before.

"Enough." A blush crept up Gendry's cheeks. Arya wanted to chuckle, he was getting embarrassed by the turn in the conversation. She couldn't help but push him farther.

"Were you two lovers?" Her voice was hushed as if she shared a great secret.

"What?" Gendry's cheeks blazed red. "Why would you ask that?"

"I was just curious," she said.  
Gendry gaped at her like a fish."That's not appropriate conversation for a lady." Gendry sounded so much like Catelyn that Arya almost laughed out loud.

"You know I'm no lady. Don't think I won't get it out of you," she told him.

"Brat. Fine, no we weren't... that." Gendry's voice trailed off and he looked even more embarrassed.

"Why not?" she asked him. Arya should have stopped questioning poor Gendry, but she felt unusually curious about Jeyne the baker's daughter.

"She wanted to marry me, and I didn't want to marry her," he said. She pondered that. She knew that Gendry would have been expected marry in a few years if he had stayed in Kings Landing. She tried to picture him with a wife and children, but the image wouldn't come to her.

"Why not?" she asked again.

"Can't you ask anything else?" Gendry was clearly exasperated by this line of questioning, but Arya couldn't let it go. She waited silently for him to answer. He cocked his head to the side, clearly thinking of an answer.

"She was happy spending the rest of her days toiling away in a baker shop, barely getting by." He shrugged. "I wasn't...And don't ask why not!" Arya giggled. She had been just about to ask that. Gendry knew her pretty well.

"I'm never getting married," she announced to break the silence.  
Gendry snorted."Whatever you say, my lady," he said, his tone belying his disbelief.

"I'm not!" she insisted.

"You'll want children. Women always do." Gendry sounded so smug that Arya half wanted to smack him.

"I truly don't. I'd be a terrible mother, always wanting to go off on adventures and see new things." She'd thought long and hard about her future. Marriage was simply not an option for her. There were other things in life that she wanted more.

"What about love?" It was Gendry's turn to play the inquisitor.

"What about it? You don't need to be married to find love. Take a stroll down Lover's Lane and ask the whores whether or not they are married to their patrons," Arya said. Gendry looked shocked, whether the source was her frank words or her opinion was unclear.

"That's not love. That's fucking," Gendry corrected. Arya was surprised at his language, Gendry normally watched his tongue around her. Arya had heard about the kind of love Gendry talked about. She thought of King Robert, so sickened by her aunt's death that he'd drowned his sorrows in wine and whores. That love had destroyed Westeros.

"It seems to me," she said slowly, "that love, more often than not, is a weakness. Maybe people would be better off just fucking." Gendry looked sad for a moment. He turned around, she could only see his broad shoulders.

"You're going to be all alone," he told her. His shoulders slumped. He sounded truly sad at the idea. Arya realized their conversation had gotten much darker than she'd anticipated. She forced her voice to sound light.

"No I won't. I'll have you!" She'd meant her joke to cheer him up, but his shoulders slumped lower. Arya knew about Gendry's moods, so she let him be.


	3. Someone to Hide

Arya could smell the burnt flesh long before she saw the smoke. She motioned to Gendry to hide, but he needed no prompting; this was not the first of these houses they'd come across. The smell of fire and flesh was seared directly into their brains, as familiar as the smell of lemon cakes had once been. It had been a lifetime since she'd seen cake of any kind, and Arya was unsure if she would have been able to pick out the scent of lemon at all.

Arya wished desperately to be able to pass by the ruins without stopping, but she knew that was not an option. She had to see how fresh the damage was to assess the possible proximity of the bandits or troops. Soldiers or bandits were equally likely. Both groups had become synonymous in her mind, equally dangerous and equally to be avoided.

She approached the smoldering ruins cautiously. The house had been razed to the ground. There were no flames licking up between the fallen beams and at first glance, Arya couldn't see the soft glow of embers. The fire had been dead for some time, she concluded. She closed her eyes, listening intently to her surroundings. She heard the tentative chirp of a few birds overhead and rustling in the bushes to her left. The animals had begun to return to the homestead. Satisfied that the bandits were no longer nearby, Arya approached the remains of the house.

She spotted the broken body of a doll. Arya knelt and picked it up. An image of Sansa, laughing happily, popped into her mind. She shoved it away. It was not the time to get sentimental. Childish emotions were a weakness Arya could no longer afford.

She kept her eyes on the wreckage, hoping she would not find the corpse of the doll's owner. When she was close enough, she knelt in the ashes. There was no heat emanating from them, so she touched them tentatively. They were still warm to the touch.

They had come in the night, she deduced. The fire had died out sometime before dawn, giving the ashes time to cool in the brisk air of morning. The men had most likely moved on even before the fire had burnt out. They had no reason to stay long in the area once they had finished what they came to do. From the number of tracks, Arya could tell the group had been fairly large, most likely thirty men. There wasn't enough space for a group that large to camp in the surrounding area.

She continued to keep all senses alert, but Arya was sure the band of men had long since moved on. She turned to her right and raced into the forest. She wouldn't return by the same path she had taken earlier. It was a habit she'd developed during her time travelling. She was halfway back to Gendry was waiting when she froze. She drew Needle from her belt. She heard the sustling sound again. The sound was distintly out of place in the forest. It was too loud and clumsy for an animal That left few remaining options for the source. She crept to her left, following the noise. Flood rushed to her limbs, and she could feel her body prepare to flee. What if she had been wrong about the bandits? She forced herself to move closer; she couldn't ignore the threat. Whoever was nearby had to be dealt with.

Arya saw the boot first. She poked it with Needle, but it didn't move. The boot was attached to a leg which stuck through a tuft of brush. She poke it again, but it didn't respond. She took another step forward and kicked the leg. The body attached to it moaned. Her first urge was to stab the body before the body could turn the tables and attack her, but she resisted the impulse. She pushed the bush aside with her blade and revealed a slender man face down in the dirt.

She could see dark, sticky blood clotting in the cloth of his shirt. She almost gagged when she pushed the bush back farther and saw the patch of burnt flesh marring his shoulder. The skin was black in some places and mottled red in others. The area of the burn was relatively small, larger than her palm, but smaller than Gendry's.

A farmer, she concluded. She did not put away her sword though; they could be as dangerous as any bandit. She turned him on his healthy side by nudging him with her own boot. He had a distinctive look about him. His hair was long, half of it was red and the other half white. His features were delicate, almost pretty. She looked at his clothes. They were of good quality, but well worn. The stranger had a sword on his hip. She drew it out partly and was shocked to see it was Valyrian steel. She shoved it back in. Where had this man gotten such a weapon? He couldn't be a farmer, nor could he be a bandit. If it was money he wanted, he could sell that sword and live like a king for a lifetime. She looked closer at his face, trying somehow to discern the mysterious man's identity. She stood. Strange, dying men were of no concern to Arya.

"Wait," the man spoke. His hand wrapped around her ankle. Startled, she yanked her foot out of his grip and ran away. She found Gendry quickly, and explained what had taken her so long.

"He woke up, and I ran to find you," she told him. Gendry looked thoughtful.

"How badly was he injured?" Gendry asked. She remembered the burn and the blood.

"The burn was pretty bad," she admitted, "but he was conscious still which says a lot. If his wounds are cleaned he may live. Only the gods can tell."

"We should try to help him." Gendry decided.

"What?" Arya shrieked. "He could try to kill us or turn us in. He's nothing to us, Gendry. Let the gods sort him out." She couldn't believe what he was suggesting. She'd thought briefly about stealing his sword, but it was too large for her to wield and Gendry wouldn't know how to use it. The sword would only draw attention and make them the target of anyone who could be tempted by an easy fortune.

"If he's as injured as you say, the two of us should able to take care of him if he tries anything. Think about it," he urged. "We can't go on like this forever. We're bound to meet someone eventually. If that happens, I'm not sure I can protect us. I'm only just learning how to use a sword-"

She cut him off, "I can wield a sword. I can protect us just fine." Gendry looked her up and down, assessing her.

"I admit that you're handy enough with that Needle of yours. If you came up on a man in single combat, you could probably win, but what if there are more than one, what if they catch us weapons undrawn? You're tiny, Arya, and you can only do so much." She scowled. "Any full grown man has sixty pounds on you easy. In a long fight, or with multiple opponents, you wouldn't stand much of a chance."

She opened her mouth to yell at Gendry. She burned white hot with anger. But she paused, truly contemplating what he had said. She wanted to argue with him, but she couldn't fault his logic. She knew better than most that no one was invincible. Her own father had been the best swordsman she knew, and even he had been bested by superior numbers.

Still, trying to help the stranger was a risky business. They wouldn't be able to travel while he was still injured. They would be sitting ducks for any man who came upon them. Even if they nursed him, there was no guarantee he would live. She had seen stronger men perish away from fever or infection, even with a healer's arts. He might not even be of use to them, she tried to tell herself. He could be a merchant or scholar, not trained with the blade he held. She knew instinctively that couldn't be true. His build had been slender, but muscular. Not the brawny strength of someone who lifted and worked for a living, but the lithe muscles of a fighter. It was the build of her father's men, well trained in the fighting arts. Plus, he had been travelling for a long time based on the quality of his clothes. No one but a formidable fighter could travel alone with such a valuable possession.

Arya looked up into Gendry's eyes. He was staring at her silently waiting for her answer. She was grateful for his patience, even though she would never tell him that. He never told her what to do or treated her like a child. He simply told her what he was thinking and why. It was an unusual trait in a man, she'd found.

"Fine." She nodded. She held up one hand in warning. "If I think he is fishy, for even a second we leave him to die. Okay?" Gendry shrugged.

The man had not moved an inch when they found him. He was still on his eyes, one arm outstretched where he had grabbed her.

"We need to find some kind of shelter," Gendry said quickly assessing the man's condition. Arya nodded and raced off without another word. Her first thought was the destroyed house but she dismissed that quickly enough. There were no structures left, only ruins. Arya knew that houses were rarely isolated completely. She took off in one direction until she came upon a faint trail. It was overgrown and rarely used, no one had taken it for a long time. She followed the trail away from the house until it opened into a clearing.

She stayed hidden in trees and watched the house for any movement. There was no smoke from a campfire or stove. The grass around the house was wild and overgrown. She examined the surrounding area for any sign of recent tracks but found none. She approached the house slowly aware of the possible danger, but nobody popped out of a bush yelling 'boo'.

The front door hung open, she peeked in and made a quick assessment. Dust covered every open surface. The first room was empty of any personal items. She inspected the dust on the ground in the doorway. There was no sign of recent entry. Feeling more comfortable she moved into the room surveying the house. It was sparsely furnished. There was a pit for cooking and sturdy table in the corner. She found a stray pot or two, but nothing of any worth. There was no sign of a scuffle.

The family that lived here had fled their home voluntarily. They had packed everything up and moved out long before their neighbors had been either run out, or murdered. Arya felt herself sigh with relief.

When she returned to Gendry and the injured man, she found them speaking in low voices. Surprised to see he was awake, she approached cautiously. The man noticed her first.

"Ahhh, a girl finally returns." He said, his voice stronger than it had been.

"Gendry! What did you tell him?" Arya was outraged.

"I- I didn't!" Gendry looked just as confused as Arya felt.

"A man can tell the difference between a girl and a boy," the stranger said rather smugly. "A man is not an idiot." Arya scowled.

"Well, a girl found us a place to stay," she retorted. Gendry suppressed a chuckle. He was well used to her biting tongue.

Between the two of them, they managed to support most of the man's weight. They moved slowly, but eventually they arrived at the abandoned house. Gendry started to move towards the house, but Arya stopped him. She motioned to a small barn-like structure at the edge of the clearing. Gendry hadn't even noticed it without her prodding.

Inside, they found hay and grass strewn about. The family had not bothered emptying the barn before leaving. Dust filled the air, but it was relatively clean and the hay left them in more comfort than they were used to on the road.

They still had a fairly large store of food, and Arya did not dare start a fire for fear of being noticed, so they ate some cooked meat and some fruit that Arya had recognized. They tried to feed the injured man, but he insisted he was not hungry. Arya knew that was not a good sign. Injured men needed food to mend the damage and gain their strength back.

After Arya and Gendry ate, she assessed the stranger's wounds again. Arya knew little about treating burns; it was not a common injury at Winterfell. She peeled the man's shirt back, ignoring Gendry's prudish outrage at her viewing a man's naked chest. He had no other serious injuries that she could tell. He had a few shallow cuts that accounted for the blood she'd seen, but she had received similar injuries before. If they cleaned them and bandaged them, they would heal. The burn was what worried her.

Arya poured water over the man's cuts, using Gendry's dagger to dig bits of dirt out and slice away diseased flesh. She avoided looking at his burned shoulder. Arya knew what she had to do, but she was not happy about it. The one thing she knew about severe burns, was that you had to cut away the dead flesh to let healthy flesh grow anew.

She took a large gulp of water, trying to prepare herself for what she was about to do.

"Hold him down," she instructed Gendry. Gendry did as she said, placing two strong hands on the man's chest and stomach. "I have to cut away the burnt flesh," she told both Gendry and the man. Gendry shuddered beside her, but the man nodded grimly.

"A girl must do as she says," the man agreed.

Arya put a stick in his mouth and he bit down on it. She placed the knife on the man's shoulder and slid it sideways. Arya gagged as the black skin peeled away from the dagger's edge. She dropped the dead skin beside his shoulder and continued. She tried to close her mind to the man's screams. She had to pour water over it to clear away the blood so that she could see what she was doing.

Gendry must have seen the look on her face. "I can do it, Arya," he volunteered. "Give me the knife. I'll do it." She was grateful for Gendry then, but she knew instinctively that this work would hurt Gendry more than it would hurt Arya. He was an innocent, and she was no stranger to inflicting pain. She forced her mind away from the little stable boy and back to the task at hand.

"I'm not strong enough," she said, making up the best reason she could think of. "I wouldn't be able to hold him down. I've got this. It's fine," she lied.

Arya made quick work of it, stripping away as much of the dead skin as she could without causing more damage. She had no idea if she had helped the man or just killed him. She stood on shaky legs and walked out into the night. She moved out of earshot before she fell to her knees, sobbing. She was in the middle of emptying her stomach into a bush when she felt cool hands smooth her hair off her forehead. She leaned into the cool touch.

"How'd you find me?" she asked once she had finished puking. Gendry chuckled behind her.

"You weren't being very quiet, milady." His voice floated out from behind her. She didn't even bother to correct the 'milady', grateful that he didn't bring up the crying. She was embarrassed by her reaction to a little bit of blood. Arya had always been proud that she was not one to go into hysterics like other girls her age.

"I guess not." The waterskin floated into her view and she grabbed it. She rinsed the filth out of her mouth and took a large gulp. Gendry helped her to her feet. She felt bare, as if Gendry had walked in on her naked. She did not want his sympathy or pity or understanding at that moment. She hated that he always saw her weaknesses. She didn't want to have weaknesses, and she certainly didn't want Gendry to see them.

"You're amazing you know." Gendry spoke as though he proclaimed utter truth. She rolled her eyes at him, he'd just watched as she'd thrown up in the bushes. She wasn't strong at all.

"I don't see you retching into any bushes." She motioned to the mess she'd made.

"I stared at the floor the whole time," Gendry admitted. "I couldn't even watch what you were doing and I did retch, you just ran off before you could see me do it." She looked at him surprised at his admission.

"I was weak. Like a little girl," she spat. Her anger at herself spilling over.

"If you think you are weak, what must you think of me?" Gendry asked her, not really expecting an answer. "Someone needs to go check on that man," he said, and left her alone with her thoughts.

Arya found Gendry snoring in the barn when she returned. The man lay next to him, sleeping silently. Arya hoped that was a good sign.

The next morning, the man was awake. He thanked Arya for saving him and told her about some plants that could be used to help heal his shoulder. Arya had never heard of them, but the man described them well enough that she was able to gather them. She followed the man's instructions, mixing a foul smelling poultice to place on the burnt skin.

Tired of calling him 'the man' or 'the stranger' in her head, she finally asked, "Who are you?" He smiled wanly.

"A man is no one," he said. "However, if needs must, you may call a man Jaqen."

"Jaqen? The name sounds foreign. Where are you from?" Gendry called from the other side of the barn.

"A man may be from Braavos," Jaqen answered. Arya squeezed her eyes shut blocking out unwanted memories.

"I once knew a man from Braavos." The words slipped out of her before she could stop them. She didn't want to talk about Syrio, especially in front of Gendry and Jaqen.

"How did a girl meet a man so far from home?" Jaqen seemed unusually curious. Arya supposed that he didn't often hear of fellow Braavosi in Westeros.

"He was my dance instructor. My sword instructor," she corrected. "He taught me Braavosi Water Dancing." He saved my life, she said silently. He died saving me.

"A girl does not look like a Water Dancer. The man must not have been a very good teacher." Arya wanted to slap him.

"You know nothing!" she cried. Her voice rose. "He was a great man." Arya realized she was yelling and fell silent. "He only taught me for a short while," she said calmer. "I would have died ten times over if he hadn't taught me what he did."

Jaqen smiled at her enigmatically. "A girl is still alive. Maybe a man isn't such a bad teacher." Arya couldn't help but smile back, she had an uneasy feeling that Jaqen had been testing her in some way but she didn't know how or why. Gendry cleared his throat.

"A boy is tired of arguing," Gendry joked. "A boy didn't mean to start a fight." Jaqen laughed, but his eyes were trained intensely on Arya. She looked away discomfited.

Arya was shocked by the change in Jaqen's condition by nightfall. The shoulder was still badly injured, but he seemed to be out of immediate danger. The burn was healing wonderfully, Arya wondered about Jaqen. No one should be able to heal that quickly without the help of a serious healer, and even then it would be remarkable. Arya did not dwell too hard on such things, accepting the fortunate turn of events.

Jaqen was not very forthcoming when it came to his past, but neither were Arya and Gendry, so they couldn't exactly fault him for that. Jaqen agreed to travel with them to the North and act as a protector. Still, Arya did not trust him fully; she'd be a fool to trust a stranger. A second day passed with little fanfare. Jaqen healed quickly; by noon, he was able to walk around without assistance, though he did move slowly.

The next morning Arya was awoken by the quiet clop of horse hooves. She bolted upright instantly awake. She shared a look of fear with Gendry and rushed to the window. There were ten mounted soldiers in the clearing. Two dismounted and went entered the abandoned house.

"He's not in here," one of the men called out. A man swore, Arya knew he would be the one in charge of this band. They were searching for someone, they would find the barn and search it too. There was no guarantee they could sneak out without being seen. If they tried, they would have to abandon Jaqen and that would mean wasting the last two days. She peeked out the window again, she saw a lion on one of the men's packs. Lannisters. Were they looking for Gendry? Her blood turned cold. They couldn't take him from her.

"He was badly burned!" the commander shouted. "How far could he have gotten?" Jaqen. They were after Jaqen. Arya knew she had seconds to make a decision. Gendry looked to her for instructions.

"We can't leave him." Gendry said, full of morals as ever. Arya nodded, not bothering to argue. Even if they tried, they'd be caught. She looked around the barn. Their inhabitation was visible to anyone with half a brain. Jaqen was sitting up, fully awake. He looked at her shrewdly. What did he want from her? A miracle?

"Hide," she whispered. Jaqen had burrowed far into the hay, so that Arya no longer had any clue where he lay. "They're looking for you, not us. Gendry, we need a cover story." Her mind raced, but she couldn't think of a single story the soldiers were likely to believe. An idea lit up Gendry's eyes suddenly.

"Take your clothes off," he whispered, his eyes fervent. He stripped off his own shirt so that all he wore were his breeches. Arya stripped as well, although she had no clue what his plan was. Arya had never been a prude when it came to being naked, but she had never been so naked with a boy before either. All Arya wore was the band that covered her chest and her small clothes. She had no time to process the strangeness of it all before Gendry stuffed all of the weapons except his sword into the hay.

They heard a faint, "over here!" and the soft thud of footsteps approaching the barn. Gendry grabbed Arya's wrist and tossed her like a rag doll onto the hay where he had hidden the weapons. He lay on top of her. He grabbed her face between both of his large hands and looked directly into her eyes.

"Just go with whatever I say. Look scared and innocent," he instructed. "And like a girl!" Arya wanted to protest but he pinched the skin of her neck savagely. That hurt, she thought before the door to the barn slammed open.

Gendry looked up, acting surprised by the sudden intrusion. It wasn't hard for Arya to fake fear as he'd instructed. She was terrified, She didn't want to die in a barn in the middle of nowhere, killed by Lannister men.

"SER!" the soldier called over his shoulder. "We've found somebody." Gendry scrambled for his clothes, throwing Arya her shirt and breeches. She dressed clumsily. She did not need to fake her shaking hands.

The commander appeared in the doorway. Arya remembered her instructions and cowered behind Gendry, gripping his arm tightly and looking frightened. It felt unnatural for Arya to cower in front of anyone.

"Who are you, boy?" he asked Gendry. The man's eyes flashed over the interior of the barn, taking stock of their surroundings. He was a shrewd one, she thought. Fear flooded her again.

"L-L-Lommy, milord," Gendry answered, stuttering slightly. Arya was glad he had thought better than to give his real name. If they were Lannister men, they might be on the lookout for a Gendry as well.

"And the lad behind you?"

"That's no lad," one of the soldiers called out. He strode forward and pulled her roughly out from behind Gendry's back. "This one here is a girl. Even though she looks ugly as sin."

"Who are you then girl?" the commander asked again.

"I'm Jeyne." Arya's voice was shriller than normal. She did not remember Sansa's friend, Jeyne Pool, fondly, but she could muster enough memories to act like her if needs must.

"What are you two children doing here?" The commander's voice was firm. Gendry ducked his head.

"We're goin' to get married, milord." Gendry's answer sounded frank and earnest to Arya."Our parents don't approve of the match, see? So we figured, we'd just run off and find the nearest septon and have done with it." Arya wanted to sink into the floor. The commander surveyed the two of them with coldly assessing eyes. He would see right through the ruse, she was sure of it.

"What are you, girl? Eleven?" Arya nodded, lying. "Aren't you a little young to be married?" Arya scrambled for an appropriate response, but she'd always thought marriage was silly. She'd never really thought of a reason for people to do it at all. She remembered Sansa's hysterics.

"But I love him, milord!" she cried, and hoped she was believable.

"Our families hate each other," Gendry cut in. "Always have. Always will. I won't wait til she's older and they marry her off to some clod. We love each other and we're goin' to be married." Arya stiffened when the soldier still grabbing her arm pulled the collar of her shirt aside. The soldier guffawed.

"Aye sir. They love each other, alright. This one here has a little love bite to prove it." The man pressed the tip of his finger to her neck, pushing . Arya looked down embarrassed. Proper little girls would be embarrassed by such things, right? The rest of the soldiers chuckled and without prompting her cheeks turned bright red.

The commander seemed satisfied by their story. He asked them about Jaqen. "Have you seen a man near here? He has red and white hair?" They shook their heads no. The commander sighed.

"If you do, be wary. He is wanted by the Queen for several murders. The man is dangerous. If you see him, find a way to send word to us at the Dancing Dove. You will be rewarded. The two of you may go."

Sighing an internal sigh of relief, Arya made to leave. The soldier holding her arm, however, didn't release her.

"Milord," he began solemnly. "We've been hunting for this fugitive for nearly three weeks. Many of the men, myself included have grown lonely." Many of the soldiers in the doorway chorused approval. Arya's relief began to quickly dissipate. Gendry made an outraged sound. "Seeing as her goods have already been used, why don't we stay here for the night and sample them ourselves.

There was a frightening man in the back, who agreed the loudest. "She's ugly as sin, but I'd still fuck her with my sword." Arya knew what rape was. Her father had beheaded any raper that had been caught in Winterfell, but she'd never really spared a thought for the girls who were the victims. She realized that the man holding her arm wanted to rape her, and despite all her skill with a sword or knife, she was powerless to stop him.

"No," the commander said. He drew his sword and took one step forward. The soldier holding her didn't even have time to flinch before he was run clean through. He collapsed beside her feet. She looked down and the crumpled body and realized a real girl would probably be crying at that point. Arya didn't have to try very hard to summon tears. Free of the soldier's grip, she ran to Gendry sobbing into his chest. He held her tightly.

The commander turned to face the remaining men. "Anyone else think fucking a child is more important than catching the fugitive?" The commander paused for a moment, waiting for a response. "That's what I thought. Mount up," he instructed. The men scrambled to obey. In minutes, the soldiers were out of earshot.

"Are they all gone?" she whispered into his chest.

"I think so," he responded. Arya pulled away, but maintained the illusion that she was still a frightened little girl. They gathered their things. Afraid that one of the soldiers might be watching them to check if their story were true they continued the charade and left the barn behind.

After an hour of walking, Arya excused herself to use the bathroom. She snuck back behind Gendry searching for any sign that someone was following them. She found none.

"We're clear," she told Gendry when she caught up with him. He looked relieved, but only slightly.

"What do we do now?" he asked. She knew what he meant. Jaqen was still at the barn as far as they knew. He had been growing stronger, but she didn't know if he'd be able to find them out in the middle of the forest. They had to decide whether to go on without him, to wait for him or to return to the barn for him.

She thought over each option carefully. "We wait the night out here." Gendry didn't argue, which she was grateful for. This was a situation that she could control. "Jaqen has been healing fast. We didn't bother to hide our tracks, so Jaqen should be able to find us easily enough. If we circle back and someone is following us, they'll know we're liars. If we wait for nightfall and he doesn't show up we can still sneak back to the barn under cover of darkness."

"He has Needle," Gendry reminded her.

"I know." She sounded petulant, but she felt vulnerable without her blade. Arya was tired of feeling vulnerable, but she would have to be patient. She'd have her sword soon enough.

They didn't have to wait for nightfall. Jaqen showed up a few hours later.

"Hello," Jaqen said, and he stepped into view from behind a tree. Arya hid her surprise well.

"Hello," she replied. "Took you long enough to get here." Despite her grumbling, she was grateful he had shown up. She didn't want to get any closer to the band of soldiers. Jaqen tossed Needle at her feet.

"A man had to be a pack mule," he said wryly. He had carried all of the belongings they had hid in the hay. Arya jumped up and unsheathed Needle. She did a quick Water Dance, revelling in the return of her blade.

"Not bad," Jaqen assessed her. "Mayhap, a man can teach a girl some new tricks." She bowed to him smiling widely. Gendry frowned at the two of them.

"Not so fast, Braavosi. How do we know you're not a murderer like they said?" Arya was surprised. Gendry never used such a sharp tone.

"A man may be a murderer," he admitted. "But so might a girl. The one God will judge us all, not a half grown man-boy." Arya laughed at his response. He was right, she was technically a murderer. She didn't think he wanted to murder them, and that would have to be enough.

"Enough, Gendry. He is no friend to the Lannisters, and that is enough for me." Gendry didn't argue with her. He simply frowned and remained silent.

"A man will not betray you. A man owes a life. If a girl tells a man a name, a life will be taken." She realized the weight of his words and smiled. Having an admitted killer owe her a life would be useful.

They travelled all night, putting as much distance between themselves and the soldiers as possible. Arya asked him questions as they travelled. Who his first kill was? How he did it? Why did he kill people? Gendry listened growing more and more agitated but saying nothing.

"Can you teach me?" she finally asked when they had stopped to eat at dawn.

"Arya!" Gendry sounded horrified. Arya ignored him, he could be such an innocent sometimes.

"To fight?" Jaqen asked. She shook her head.

"To kill." Jaqen surveyed her. Gendry stomped away, but Arya refused to even acknowledge his tantrum.

"A man can teach you many things, but not to kill. That is not a man's place." Arya shrugged aside her disappointment. There were people who had wronged her and gotten away with it. She thought she had finally found a way to wreak vengeance upon the likes of Joffrey and Cersei. Learning to fight would be helpful, but she would need to become more than just a fighter to penetrate through the defenses of the monarchy. She would have to become a killer.


	4. Some Fears to Face

The first thing Jaqen taught Arya was how to move silently regardless of the terrain. Surprise, he informed her, was the sharpest weapon in a fighter’s possession, and to lose that advantage was to court death. He taught her about plants , which ones could be combined for either benefit or detriment, and throwing a dagger to take down prey from a distance. She learned more each day than she thought was possible and more still the next day. 

Arya’s favorite lessons still involved Water Dancing, despite the memories of Syrio and her time in King's Landing. She loved losing herself in the intricate choreography, and letting her body take over. Gendry listened to her lessons silently. He joined them for Water Dancing lessons, but he did not have the talent for it as Arya did. Occasionally, she would catch him looking at her strangely. She would stare back until he looked away. She never flinched, but Gendry often did.

Gendry remained distant with her, and she found herself missing their easy camaraderie. Sometimes he seemed sad, and other times churlish. His behavior completely baffled Arya. For one thing, he refused to let her sleep next Jaqen. She didn’t notice what he was doing at first, but he would always place himself between them before they went to bed. She didn’t really mind his protective stubbornness. Gendry was large and warm, and Arya never woke up shivering after spending a night tucked against him.

Arya told him that she thought his brotherly instincts were very silly, and Gendry blushed furiously. She thought he might be discouraged from his nightly mission, but as she was falling asleep, she felt his warm body slide into place beside her. 

The longer they traveled, the more Arya could feel her body changing, becoming fitter. She was no longer sore and exhausted every night when they stopped to rest. Their pace had not slowed, yet somehow she had gotten used to the never-ending walking. Her Water Dancing improved as well. The positions and sweeping movements sunk through her skin, settling into her bones until she could practically perform them blindfolded. Sparring became second nature to her, and she slowly learned to recognize a body’s tells, the way a thigh would tense before a lunge or the twitch of a bicep before a sword was swung downwards. 

Arya preferred to fight Jaqen, even though she never beat him. To watch Jaqen in motion was to see true beauty; he fought as though his sword was an extension of his body, as much as an arm or leg. Arya was quick, but Jaqen moved with a preternatural speed that both awed and frightened her. He whipped his sword towards her so fast that all she saw was the glint of sunlight on the blade. He never hurt her though, at least not seriously. He would smack her with the flat of his blade if he thought her mind was wandering from the fight, but that was no more than Syrio would have done. 

“An absent mind means death for a dancer,” he would say. Arya would roll her eyes, and prepare herself for his next onslaught. 

Arya despaired that she would never move like Jaqen. She told him so one night after a fight had gone terribly for her. Jaqen laughed at her, and reminded her that she was yet a child. That familiar comment angered her. She had heard it before from several lips and it never failed to stir the fury inside her. She was young, but she had seen death and destruction and chaos. What was adulthood really? She did have a child’s body, but she lacked the innocence to accompany it. 

Not everything got easier though. Gendry’s mood had not improved. He rarely acknowledged her existence with more than a brief glance. Gone were the days of easy laughter. Whenever she offered a thought to him, he would brush it aside with a rude remark. He angered her so much that her hands were sore from constantly being clenched into tiny fists.

After a day in which Gendry only spoke four words the entire time, Arya decided enough was enough. The next day, bolstered by her growing annoyance, Arya launched into such a thoroughly determined campaign that it should be retold in the history books. She chattered constantly about any subject that crossed her mind. She granted herself only the occasional deep breath to reload the cannons, before firing another volley of memories at him in quick succession. Lunch was an unspoken cease fire, but when her mouth wasn’t full of food she was spitting out word after word on the beauty of Winterfell and the life she led there and ‘oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful to return’. 

“As I was saying, first impressions usually aren’t very accurate. Sometimes they are, I could tell Joffrey was a tit from the first go, even though Sansa thought him a golden prince. But you,” she said and glanced backwards at Gendry walking behind her. “I thought you a dimwit and a bully when I first saw you. Dimwit you may be, but you’re hardly a bully. I guess--” Gendry tackled her midsentence, cutting off her thought. Though it was her intent to get him to speak to her, she really hadn’t expected him to tackle her. 

“I’ll show you dimwit,” he huffed, as he tried to pin her arms behind her back. His position was weak, and she managed to wriggle out of his grasp, turning so that she faced him. He tried to pin both of her arms down against her sides. She let him pin her left arm down and focused all her energy on keeping her right arm in the air. Gendry’s knuckles whitened as he bore all of his strength down on her right arm. With a flash of triumph she sprung the trap. Her right arm yanked his sleeve suddenly, as her left arm shoved him sideways. He couldn’t fight his momentum, and he tipped over on his side, allowing her to get out from under him. 

Arya scrambled up quickly, taking advantage in his momentary confusion. She looped her right arm under his armpit and hooked her hand behind his neck making his right arm straighten. Using that as an anchor, she threw her weight forward shoving his face into the bed of pine needles and dirt. She looped her left arm underneath his armpit and anchored that hand behind his neck as well. For extra security, she locked her fingers together. 

She couldn’t see Gendry’s face, but Arya was grinning wildly. She hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. But Arya should have known better than to get complacent. She felt his shoulders tighten and the muscles in his arms and back began to swell as he tried to bring his arms to his sides and break her hold. She panicked slightly. His shoulders were wide and her arms were short. Arya’s fingers were slipping and her hold was beginning to loosen. 

“Shit,” she said, realizing her time was limited. She tried to keep her hands together as long as she could, but Gendry’s neck was sweaty and he was damn strong. She only had a moment to think of a plan. A split second before he would have broken her grip, Arya released her hands and jumped free of Gendry’s grip. Gendry rose onto all fours. Arya, realizing there was no way for her to beat Gendry by hand, leaped onto his back. 

Gendry chuckled, but didn’t even flinch under her weight, which both annoyed Arya and made her happy. Gendry pushed himself easily into a standing position, seemingly ignoring the girl clinging to his back. 

“Arya?” he called out. “Did you give up?” She whacked him on top of the head.

“Shut up, you stupid bull.” Her words were harsh, but her voice was happy. Even if it ended up being just for a moment, it was as though things were back to normal. 

“Oh, I didn’t notice you there,” he replied. She poked him in the ribs, hard. “Ooof. Not nice, milady,” Gendry chided. Arya dropped down off of his back, tangled her legs in his and yanked his collar backwards sending him tumbling to the ground. His hand grabbed her shoulder, pulling her down as well. Before she had time to process the turn of events, Gendry pinned her to the floor. She was breathing hard because he was crushing her ribs with his weight, but she was grinning. Gendry was clearly fighting a smile as well. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist my charm,” Arya said. Gendry lost his fight to not smile and laughed at that outright. 

“You are many things, milady. Annoying, frustrating, loud, brash,” he ticked off his fingers as he listed her faults. “But charming? Not so much.” Arya was rather proud of his character assessment. 

“Can you get off of me now?” she asked. “You’re making it hard for me to breathe.” Gendry pretended to think about her request for a second. He shook his head no.

“I’m quite comfortable here, actually,” he said. Arya smacked his thigh. 

“I said get off of me, you big bull!” Gendry grabbed her hands and held them so that she couldn’t strike him. 

“You need to pay the forfeit.” He leaned in closer to her. Arya felt her heart beat faster, but she didn’t know why. She knew there was no reason to be frightened. The fight was over and anyways, they were only play fighting in the first place. She trusted Gendry with her life. Still, she felt adrenaline surge through her veins; suddenly, she wanted to run away, to flee.

“What-- What forfeit do you want?” Arya was embarrassed to hear her own voice waver. Gendry sat up suddenly. He cleared his throat.

“Just admit that I’m the best,” he said briskly. His voice sounded much different than it had a second ago, and the unbearably heavy moment lightened.

“You are the best,” she insisted. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I don’t know what I would do without you.” Gendry looked touched. He glanced to the side and ruffled her hair. They both stood up and looked around, Jaqen was nowhere to be seen.

Gendry was more comfortable around her afterwards. There were still moments where Arya could tell that he was distancing himself from her. Mostly, they were when she fought with Jaqen. Arya supposed that he was jealous of her ability with the sword, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Arya's skill with a dagger improved to the point that she could hunt small game as they traveled. She would travel far enough ahead of Gendry and Jaqen that their noise wouldn't scare away any potential prey. Arya loved her hunting trips. It was a game to her, like chasing cats had been. She liked the challenge it provided, and it kept her busy on their long trip.

She was moving silently through the forest, pausing to inspect tracks, but they were all too old to pick up. She would move on silently, keeping her senses alert for any sign of an animal. She was inspecting an old rabbit track when she heard the crack of a branch up ahead. She froze, listening carefully. From the sound of it, it was a large animal, a deer probably. She rose into a standing position, withdrawing the dagger from her belt. It would be tricky taking down a deer, but it could be done if she aimed true enough.

She moved slowly forward, watching where she stepped so as not to make any noise and spook the deer. She stepped to the side, and readied the dagger in her hand. She peeked around the tree. The deer was not in sight, but it had to be close. She would have heard if it had run off.

She was flat on her back, before she knew what was happening. Her breath was knocked out of her and she tried to gather her wits without panicking. Something, or someone had yanked her by the collar and thrown her down. She tried to stand, but before she felt the crunch of a foot swinging into her ribs. She gasped, cursing herself for letting someone sneak up on her. The leg kicked her again, but she fought the pain. When the foot swung back to kick her again she rolled away from it and hopped to her feet. The boot connected with her thigh, but she didn't stop to think about that. She sprinted the other direction, without so much as a glance back at her attacker.

Her attacker cursed behind her. She crashed through the forest not bothering to be quiet or hide her passing. She felt the fear rising in her. The man's footsteps sounded like they were getting closer. It wasn't hard to imagine why. Her thigh was cramping up, and it felt like someone was stabbing her leg repeatedly. She tried to shut the pain out, but her leg just wasn't as strong as it normally was. She didn't know how much longer she could keep running, but she realized that eventually she'd have to turn and fight. Arya remembered Jaqen's lessons. Surprise was your greatest weapon, her attacker had lost his, but she still had hers. 

Arya was grateful for the cold weight of the dagger in her hand. She had no idea how she'd managed to hold on to it in the struggle, but it was her only chance of survival.

Arya spotted a small clearing up ahead and ran through it. When she reached the far edge she spun around looking for her target frantically. He came into view a moment later, halted and growled, the feral sound sending shivers down Arya's spine. How could someone seem so inhuman? She took careful aim, knowing she'd only have one shot at the man and threw, aiming for his heart.

The god's were a cruel bunch. Her attacker stumbled over a root as the dagger left her hand and she watched in horror as the blade buried itself hilt deep in the meat of his bicep. He cried out in pain and rage, and she knew it was too late to run. 

This was not Arya's first fight, but this was the first time her life was truly in her own hands. She would live or die by her own strength. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she widened her stance , prepared to fight.

Arya had no clue what to expect, but she read his intention half a second before he leapt to tackle her. She pivoted on one foot, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the blow entirely. Instead of landing underneath him, she was knocked down next to him.

Arya scrambled to get up, but his hand twisted in her shirt, anchoring her to the ground. She grabbed his hand and bent his thumb back at an inhuman angle. He cried out and loosened his grip. She pulled away from him and gave herself a few feet in which to maneuver. Arya's mind whirled. She needed a new plan, and quickly. She didn't see any weapons on him, which was a blessing. The knife! It was still in the clearing somewhere and if she could get to it, she would stand a chance. Sunlight glinted on metal a few feet away.

Arya raced forward and bent over, her fingers grasping the hilt of the dagger. Her relief faded in an instant when she was shoved forward and was suddenly face first in the clearing. Her attacker had her pinned down on the floor with his knee digging into her spine. Her arm had twisted awkwardly underneath her body and she couldn't pull it free. Her other arm was solidly in her attackers grip and he twisted it up behind her back until she yelped in pain.

"You're gonna die, bitch," he said. His voice slithered over her and she felt the beginning of tears swell in her eyes. This truly was the end. She'd never see Bran or her mother again or get revenge for the death of her father. Gendry's face popped into her mind and she sobbed. Gendry would never know what happened to her. Arya Stark would disappear from this world, with none the wiser.

Then just as she expected her attacker to snap her neck, the weight was gone. Her eyes blinked open slowly. She heard a rustle behind her, and she looked over her shoulder. Jaqen stood there, one hand buried in her attacker's hair holding him upright like a dangling rag doll. Her attacker wasn't struggling, probably because of the sword pressed tightly against his throat.

Arya collapsed into the earth, releasing what she had thought would be her last breath in this life. "Not today," she whispered into the earth. She composed herself quickly, wiping tears from her eyes and eventually standing on unsteady legs. She turned to face Jaqen, her eyes still puffy.

"A girl must say a name," he said. Her mind scrambled for his meaning, before it dawned on her.

She frowned, and said, "I don't know his name." Jaqen shrugged. She picked the dagger from the floor, wiping the dirt onto her trousers. She made herself approach Jaqen and the man.

"Tell me your name," she demanded. She pressed the blade against his cheek, drawing a line of blood. He winced, she smiled.  
"Biter," he hissed. She took a step back and looked into Jaqen's eyes.

"I name Biter." She did not look away, as steel flashed and blood poured from the dead man's throat. The gurgling sounds coming from the dead man made Arya want to retch, but she forced herself to watch unflinching as Biter's life flowed out onto the dirt. Jaqen had cut deep, and the death was quick. She didn't recognize the man's face until later that night. He had been in the group of soldiers and had wanted to rape her when he knew she was a girl. She was glad he was dead, it meant one less raper for young girls to worry about.

"You did not look away," Jaqen stated. "You were frightened. Why didn't you look away?" Jaqen stood over the corpse, but he looked genuinely curious to hear her answer. Arya thought about it for a second, before answering.

"The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword," she quoted her father's words. "I may not have swung the sword, but I took responsibility in my own way." Jaqen seemed happy with her answer.

"You have a gift for death, especially for one so small and young," Jaqen commented cryptically, and Arya didn't bother to point out how she had just almost died. Jaqen fished something out of his pocket and tossed it to her. "If you ever need the aid of a fellow Braavosi present this," Arya looked down at the iron coin, "and repeat these words: Valar Morghulis."  
"Valar Morghulis," she repeated to herself, wrapping her fingers around the coin. Jaqen nodded and they took off to find Gendry.

Arya had no words to comfort Gendry when they did find him. Even though she was the one to escape death, it was Gendry who seemed most shaken by the day's events. When she had returned with Jaqen, Gendry had paled upon seeing her disheveled state and demanded to know what had happened to her. She quickly told him about her fight, and with each development in the story Gendry lost a little more color in his face until he was near as white as the dead man's corpse.   
"You could have died," Gendry whispered.

Arya didn't bother to disagree. "But I didn't." Her answer didn't seem to comfort him, and Gendry didn't say much more that night. Neither did he stray from her side for a single moment. Arya managed to bite back her comments when he followed her into the woods when she needed to relieve herself. He was obviously shaken up and she couldn't really blame him.

Arya lay awake in her bed roll listening to every rustle of a branch and trying to sleep. When she heard the crack of a branch breaking, she flinched and squeaked. Gendry scooted forward and wrapped his arms around her. She was embarrassed; she hadn't even thought he was awake. The weight of his arms made her feel safe, and she let herself drift into sleep.

The darkness lifted and Arya was trapped by someone. Someone was trying to kill her and she wasn't about to let that happen. She threw her head backwards, slamming into her captor's face. She heard crunching and a low groan. The arms loosened, but they still had a grip on her, so she threw her elbow backwards catching ribs. Her captor moaned again and let go of her. Arya scrambled away searching her body for possible weapons.

"Arya!" Gendry's voice pierced through her fog and she slowed. "It's just me!" She turned around to look at Gendry who was trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. She tried to look apologetic, but deep down inside of herself she was more than a little proud of her ability to fight back.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, as she patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "I just panicked when I woke up. I thought you were trying to kill me." Given the recent circumstances, she was relatively sure that he wouldn't be offended. He wasn't.

"Ish okhay," he assured her through his hands. "You didn'sh mean ish." He looked a little pathetic laying on the ground, bleeding. But there was little she could do to make him stop bleeding. She lay back down and realized that much of her fear was gone. Granted there was always a chance of someone taking her unawares, but she would be more careful. She would be ready for the next person that came after her and this time, even though she was only ten, she would be the one to kill them.


	5. Some Plans to Make

Arya felt the hair on her neck prickle. She stilled, searching with her senses for any sign of danger. The forest was quiet, too quiet in fact. It was suspiciously absent of any bird noises. She looked to her left and right, trying to anticipate where the danger came from.

"Oi." A man's voice fell from above. Arya and Gendry looked up sharply. A man straddled a thick branch, aiming a bow directly at Gendry. Arya cursed herself, she had been so careful to watch the ground, she hadn't even thought an enemy could approach from above.

The man watched Gendry carefully, not bothering to worry about Arya. His carelessness was the opening she needed. She moved slowly, reaching for the dagger. She almost had it in hand, when she heard a scrape and a thump right behind her.

"I don't think so, boy," the smooth voice said. "Hands where we can see them." Arya raised her hands, leaving her dagger where it was. The man behind her had his sword resting near her shoulder, ready to take her head off if she so much as moved. 

"That's no boy," the archer called surveying her features, "just an ugly girl." Arya glared at him. She felt Gendry bristle a few steps away. The man behind her whistled and she heard two men approaching from separate directions.

When the extra men came within view, Arya's heart stopped.

"Caught a couple of looters, Lem?" the young man asked. Arya debated momentarily about what to do, but she could recognize a futile situation when it stared her in the face. She lowered her hand from her dagger.

"We're not looters," she said. Her blade was out of reach, but her body was alert for any sudden movements or attacks, "Just travelers." One of them snorted. 

"No one's 'just a traveler' anymore," one of them said stepping forward. "But you travelers can come with us. We don't trust anyone trying to  _travel_  through our land. You two get the honor of  _traveling_  back to the inn with us so we can make sure you don't mean no funny business." Arya bit back a retort. She had no desire to end up stuck like a pig for talking back to some backwater bandit. If they wanted, she would cooperate, but only long enough for her and Gendry to escape. At the end of it, they would be none the wiser, and Arya would be one stop closer to home.

They traveled to a place the men called Acorn Hall. The men seemed glad for a warm place to eat dinner and revel, but Arya was simply annoyed by the detour. Gendry seemed fine with the men. He listened avidly to their stories and tales, absorbing their silly ideals about chivalry and honor. Arya knew how flimsy such words were, how thin the ideas the represented really were. She looked forward to getting to Acorn Hall. Such places were usually bustling, and it would be easy for Arya and Gendry to slip out unnoticed and go one their way. When they arrived Arya was quickly whisked away by a pair of giggling maids. They promised the men to clean her up good and return her promptly. 

Arya disliked being talked about as though she were not there, but she went with them without a fight.

"Gods child, when was the last time water even touched your skin?" a maid her sister's age asked. The maids had been scrubbing Arya for close to an hour, and they were still finding dirt on her. Finally, the maids threw their hands up in disgust and let a sullen and soggy Arya get out of the tub. As she was being toweled dry, one of the maids approached her holding a dress out. Arya groaned. There had been major advantages in being thought a boy. She did not wish to offend the lady though, not when she was being so kind. The dress felt tight and restricting to Arya. She had gotten used to the freedom of breeches. She put it on anyway and forced a watery smile onto her face.

"Thank you m'lady," she said, curtsying. The maids smiled at her. She could tell they were proud of the progress they had made. Arya walked downstairs to joing Gendry and the other men.

Arya listened to the men report the news and gossip they had gathered back to Tom. No one paid any attention to her, so she slipped an old knife into her sleeve. Just in case. She listened carefully to all the news, trying to piece together what had happened since she had gone on the run. She had already some idea of the general air of chaos that had descended upon Westeros, but during dinner she began to fill in details as to exactly what was happening.

Her ears perked up at the mention of Winterfell, and she tried not to seem too interested in her home. Her determined nonchalance turning quickly to horror as the news sunk in. Winterfell had been destroyed by the hand of Theon Greyjoy. He had killed her brothers. Bran was gone. Rickon was gone. Her home and all the servants she had grown up with, gone. She ran over those words in her mind, but they seemed wrong. Foreign. That was impossible. Theon had played horsey with her brothers. He had taught them to shoot a bow. He loved them. He could not. He would not kill them. She bit the inside of her lip so hard it bled.

"Arya," Gendry said, shaking her arm to get her attention. "They have a forge here. Go see it with me?" His eyes were gentle, and the pity she saw in their depths was almost too much for her to bear. She nodded, looking at her feet as she stepped away from the table.

She followed Gendry blindly as he guided her down to the forge and then past it. He stopped when he reached the gentle slope of the hill.

Arya fell to her knees. Tears spilled over her cheeks and landed in the dirt. She lost her fight with emotion and gasped as sobs racked her body. Gendry rubbed her back in small circles, but his touch was unbearable at the moment. She wriggled away from his touch, not wanting to share her grief. No one could make her feel better, or take away her pain.

Arya let herself feel a lifetime of grief for losing her younger brothers. She cried so long that Gendry had to sit down a few feet away, he was tired of standing. She cried until her tears dried up and her hiccups died down.

She gave herself this one moment to grieve, to pray, to remember. Then she would lock this memory, this grief up. Arya did not have the luxury of letting the pain swallow her whole. She had to be strong and carry on. She had many more lives on her list of people to avenge.

When she turned to look at Gendry with red, swollen eyes she saw his cheeks were wet as well.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. Arya nodded, wiping her cheeks with the back of the sleeve.

"It's fine." Her moment was over. It was back to business for Arya, and her business was surviving.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gendry hesitated before adding, "About them?"

"No. You couldn't understand, and it would be pointless." Arya's voice was hard.

"Sorry for trying to help." Gendry sounded sullen. Arya bristled at his tone.

"Do you want me to tell you stories about them? Cry some more for them? Will that bring them back? Will it make me feel better? Will it help avenge their deaths?" Gendry remained silent. "That's what I thought."

"You're right." Gendry shook his head, looking chastened. "I'm sorry, Arya," he paused uncertainly. "I just hate feeling useless." Arya nodded.

"I feel like this is my fault. If I had been there, I could have helped them. My brothers would still be alive."

"Or you would be dead as well," Gendry added. Arya thought about that. It didn't make the hurt go away, but it did lessen the guilt she felt. She was their older sister, and she should have protected them. It was too late for her to save them, but not too late to avenge them.

"We can't go to Winterfell anymore." Arya realized that her destination no longer existed. She had nowhere to go.

"What about Riverrun?" Gendry suggested. "We could join with your brother. I'm sure they could use a blacksmith." Arya liked the way Gendry used the word 'we' like them being together was a foregone conclusion. She had lost so much, she couldn't imagine losing Gendry as well.

"Riverrun," she agreed. There was little other choice, Robb was all she had left, her chance to be safe again. She plucked a blade of grass and threw it at his face. It tangled in his eyelashes and he shook his head vigorously to dislodge it. Arya giggled at him. Gendry threw a handful of grass at her. Arya grabbed a handful of dirt and rubbed it into the top of his head. He followed suit, and soon they were as dirty as they had been when they arrived.

Arya pulled away giggling. She plucked a yellow wildflower from the earth and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt. "Truce?" she begged.

"Truce," he agreed, brushing large clods of dirt and blades of grass out of her hair. "How do I look?" Blades of grass stuck out of his hair, and his shirt was covered in bits of rock and dirt. Arya made a disapproving face and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. He cupped a protective hand over the flower she had given him, so her roving hands wouldn't squish it.

* * *

"We need to go to Riverrun," Arya announced to the room full of Brothers. Only one or two paid her any heed, and then it was only to laugh at her pitiful declaration. Arya was not surprised, but she was not about to give up. She leapt onto the table and drew Needle, stabbing a slab of meat clean through. The room fell silent. Thirty pairs of eyes were trained on Arya as she scowled down from her perch. 

"I said," she began slowly, "That my friend and I must go to Riverrun. My brother, Robb, is there and he will pay handsomely for my return." Clearly no one believed her, she could feel their attention drifting back to food and drink.

"Wait!" a voice cried from the back of the room. "She's not lying, that's little Arya Horseface alright. My father worked in her stables." The room fell silent again. The men clearly at a loss as to how to handle a ten year old noble girl in their midst. Tom stepped forward, clearly in charge.

"She goes to Beric." The few men Arya could see nodded. She stamped her foot, on the table.

"No! Robb will pay my ransom. Take me to Riverrun." Arya's voice wavered, she hated that tears were prickling her eyes, but this is not how she had expected things to happen. She had thought that any man in their right mind would take her ransom gladly. Apparently, greed was not as strong of a motivator among this group, as she had originally expected it to be. Damn men and their misplaced sense of honor. She wanted this ordeal to be over, to be with her family again. Pity softened Tom's gaze, which stiffened Arya's resolve.

"I'm sorry, lass." And he did seem genuinely sorry. "All highborn captives go to Beric first, but we'll get you to your brother in no time." She started to draw her blade out of the meat. Her mind was calm and blank, and she did not have a plan other than to wipe that pity out of his eyes and replace it with something else. A warm hand gripped her arm, and pulled her off the table before she could make a move. She knew by the feel of him that it was Gendry, but she didn't relax.

"You're going to take on thirty full grown men, are you?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she said fiercely. Her fist tightened around Needle's hilt. Gendry burst out laughing, cutting through her anger and frustration to allow a small bit of logic through. She sheathed Needle, and slumped into a chair. 

"What a fierce little wolf pup you are." Gendry chuckled at her scowling face. 

Traveling with the Brotherhood was a different experience than traveling alone. They didn't make their presence obvious, but there wasn't the same level of secrecy or fear hanging around the men. They were always ready for battle, as if a battle could always find them.

They moved out, following whispers here and their across the countryside trying to find this Lightning Lord of theirs. Arya wondered if they were following a ghost or if thirty odd men had all lost their marbles at the same time. Gendry laughed at her suggestion, but told her to keep such insights to herself. She hoped she was wrong.

Arya never thought she'd miss the directness of their own meandering path North. The Brotherhood tracked back and forth across the countryside often backtracking or returning to places they'd already been. The first night they camped outside, but the second night they had a tip, or so Tom had claimed, that led them to a bustling inn hiding in the woods.

The Peach was a loud, boisterous inn with men coming and going and women serving and flirting. It didn't take long for Arya to realize exactly what sort of establishment they were really in. Arya sat glumly by while the Brothers spilled ale down their fronts and pinched bar maids bottoms. The whores had been flirting with Gendry the entire time. He was clearly young, handsome and a step above the average quality of the Brotherhood. His full head of hair and unbroken smile were enough to make many of the young maids whisper and giggle behind lace covered hands.

Arya wished they would leave their table in peace. The constant comings and goings of those chattering hens were making Arya lose her appetite. Gendry could hardly take a bite of his meal he was so furiously blushing at the ribald and open advances of the working women. He looked embarrassed by the attention. Arya on the other hand had not been spoken to once that night and she was bored.

"How does one become a whore?" she asked as one of the girls sashayed out of earshot. Gendry already well into a few mugs of ale choked on the sip he had been taking. His cheeks turned an even more ruddy color, if that was possible. Arya waited patiently as he coughed up the foam he had swallowed wrong. She let him catch his breath, but waited patiently for her answer.

"Are you thinking of starting a new profession?" Gendry narrowed his eyes at her. He obviously did not trust this line of questioning. Arya rolled her eyes at him.

"Of course not," she snapped. "I'm just curious."

"I imagine it's the same reason someone takes any job. Need." Gendry's face pulled tight as if remembering some far off thing. Arya remembered in a rush that Gendry's mother had been a whore. She winced inwardly wishing she could take back her foolish question. Gendry had never asked her why people became Hand of the King. She racked her brain trying to think of a way to steer conversation away from sensitive subjects like long dead mothers and unhappy childhoods.

Before she could come up with anything other than the weather a dark haired girl swept up to the table and sat on Gendry's knee. Could she not see they were having a conversation. Gendry's face slid instantly into an easy smile and Arya bristled at his sudden inattention. One harlot waves his peaches at him and suddenly Arya doesn't exist. Arya cleared her throat, at the same time the whore began to talk.

"Hello handsome." Her voice was low and raspy. Gendry sat up straighter in his chair, Arya obviously going unheard. The whore leaned forward, resting her lips against Gendry's earlobe. "You looking to have any fun tonight?" she asked. Other girls had approached, but none had been so bold. Or so touchy, as Arya noted the girl's slender fingers running circles on Gendry's thighs. Arya stood up and slid away from the table. She suddenly felt like an intruder on a very personal moment, and she did not want to sit at the table anymore.

She saw a drunken man stumbling down the stairs to the rooms and changed her course to avoid an unwanted collision. She was almost around the dark corner to the back door when she felt her arm jerk backwards. Gendry stood there gripping her a little tighter than was comfortable.

"I wasn't going to go upstairs with her." Arya shook her head, she had no idea why he'd followed her to the back of the inn just to tell her that. Apparently the ale had touched his head a bit more than she'd first thought.

"I never said you were," she reminded him. Gendry's face was shrouded in the shadows and she wished she could see his face to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

"Then why'd you leave?" he whined. Sounding like Rickon when she'd taken one of his favorite toys. Arya opened her mouth to answer but then closed her mouth. Why had she wanted to leave so suddenly?

"I was going to get some air." She pointed behind her to the back door and the cool night that lay beyond. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth either. She had just felt like going somewhere else.

"Okay, but I wasn't going with her." Gendry's words were slurring together, and Arya suddenly remembered the sad, drunken king. She hoped this didn't become a habit for Gendry. The last thing she wanted to see was him become some drunken fool.

"Let's take you up to bed," she said. Arya slipped her arm behind his back to support his slowly tilting form.

"Is that an invitation?" he asked cheekily, and Arya couldn't help but laugh at his boyish tone.

"Don't you think you've had enough invitations for one night?" she asked him, remembering the parade of beautiful young women that had thrown themselves at her blacksmith.

"You can never have too many invitations," he informed her. There was enough light by then to see him wiggle his eyebrows at her. Gendry was a silly drunk, Arya was coming to realize. Very silly, indeed.

They had shuffled half of the way up the stairs when they had to stop to let Tom and two females with mussed hair and pink cheeks slip past them on the way down. Arya saw one of the girls wink at Gendry, and kiss him on the cheek with a loud smack before scurrying down to the noisy room.

"See?" Gendry crowed. "Those girls think I'm handsome." His voice was accusatory, but Arya had no idea what she was being accused of. Arya realized that taking care of a drunk was very much like taking care of a toddler.

"You _are_  very handsome," Arya assured him, rolling her eyes at his ridiculous behavior. He pouted at her, apparently not drunk enough to ignore her patronizing tone.

"You don't think I'm handsome." Gendry seemed to be holding less of his own weight as this ridiculous conversation progressed. Arya was soon sagging under the lopsided form of her only friend.

"Yes I do." She needed to get this big lug of a blacksmith moving again.

"Then prove it." He wagged a droopy finger halfheartedly at her. She was tempted drop him and let him roll down the stairs, but she just sighed.

"How do I do that?" He was lucky she found him mostly amusing. Patience was not a trait Arya Stark was known for, and he was severly trying hers.

Gendry's eyes lit up, he motioned in what she assumed was supposed to be the direction of the girl downstairs."She kissed me." Gendry was accusing her of something, but she still didn't know what it was. Did he want her to kiss him?

She tipped him over onto the hay so that he was laying on his back limbs splayed out in every which direction. He grinned up at her, and proclaimed loudly, "I'm ready!" Gendry squeezed his eyes shut and puckered his lips into an exaggerated pout. She didn't make a move, maybe he would fall asleep before she would have to do anything. No such luck. His eyes blinked open full of hurt. He rolled over on his side, tucking his arm as a pillow beneath his head. He looked sad. Even if he was acting like a drunken idiot, she didn't want him be sad. She bent over and brushed a soft kiss on his cheek. He sighed happily and drifted off to sleep, his lips quirked upwards in a soft smile.

The next morning Gendry woke groggily. His head ached and his stomach lurched, he informed her. She did not feel sorry for him, she was sore herself from carrying his drunken corpse every which way. He looked slightly embarrassed at that, but did not offer up any recollections of the previous night. Arya assumed he had lost those memories to the alcohol. Her brothers had told her how that could happen.

They were the only ones up in the inn. The men were all sleeping happily, like well fed dogs before a fireplace. It took a few minutes for their incredible luck to dawn on Arya. They could steal a few horses and be at Robb's wedding before the Brotherhood even roused themselves from their drink induced stupor.

Gendry's condition was a hindrance, but not so large of one that they couldn't work past it. They just had to get him down to the horses.

Gendry blinked at her through heavy lids. She was sure he had no idea what she was going on about, but he trusted her so he gathered up his things and followed her downstairs. They didn't run into any maids doing cleaning, and Arya supposed dawn wasn't a whore's busiest hour. They made it out the backdoor and were creeping around the corner of the inn towards the stables when they heard it.

A high pitched whistle, sounded from around the corner, not a signal to alert for escaping captives but a joyful lilting tune. She should have known better than to hope there wouldn't be anyone left to guard the mounts. She recognized the guard instantly, she'd heard that song countless times at Winterfell. It was Harwin, who she'd known since she was a child. She felt only the smallest twinge of doubt before she settled her mind. She reached for Needle, hanging at her waist. Gendry grabbed her arm looking horrified.

"What are you going to do?" he asked in the quietest whisper he could manage. She looked at him like he was an idiot, and looked pointedly down at her blade and back at the oblivious guard.

"No," he insisted. "There will be another opening. We'll wait for a better time." His words pleaded with her, but she knew them to be foolish hopes. There was not likely to be another night with the whole Brotherhood so well sated with doxies and drink. She shook her head and tried to pull from his grasp.

"That's a man, a good man, an innocent man," he nodded to Harwin, "Who's done nothing more wrong than stand in your way, and you're going to kill him for it?" Arya could tell he wanted her to deny his claims, but she had no intention of doing so. Gendry could be so naive sometimes. 

"I stopped believing in the goodness and innocence of men a long time ago." She stared directly into his eyes, not wavering in determination or conviction for a second. He stared back his face searching for something. Apparently he found what he was looking for. His face filled with sadness and acceptance. Arya sighed with relief. Good, he would let her do what needed to be done.

"I hope you find your family," he said and squeezed her arm. Arya froze wondering what that meant, and her moment of stillness gave Gendry enough time to shoot around the corner and into the open view of Harwin.

"Ho, Harwin!" Gendry called out in a sunny voice. "Tom was telling me last night you're the best swordsman within a hundred miles. I sincerely doubt that could be true, especially when you haven't ever lifted a sword against me." Harwin reacted with a defiant protest and challenged Gendry to spar against him. Arya watched Gendry's broad shoulders disappear around the corner to the front of the house.

She was frozen, crouched behind the corner of the inn running over what had just happened in her head. Gendry had just given her the perfect chance to escape, but he wasn't going with her. She didn't understand. They were supposed to be leaving together.

Apparently, he had changed his mind. She thought briefly about staying behind, staying with Gendry. That thought was tempting maybe they could find another way. She dashed that idea away quickly. She wasn't going to trade her freedom for the stupid ideals of some baseborn fool. He had only slowed her down anyways and now she could reach her mother and brother even quicker. She knew from the gossip that they were within a day's ride and at the wedding of Edmure to a Frey. She hadn't been able to glean the details of who was marrying who or why. That could all be sorted out once she got there. All she had to do was get there and everything would be fine. She would be fine and she could forget about that stupid boy.

She had a vague idea of which direction to go, and once she found the well traveled road that obviously led to the wedding navigating was easy work. She didn't know what to expect once she arrived, but chaos was definitely not it. There was a flurry of activity outside of the castle walls and Arya had no idea what was happening. She made sure to place Needle across her lap, well within easy reach and approached the first group of men she saw. They were packing up items onto wagons and horses. They behaved and looked like thieves but no one made moves to stop them so Arya supposed they weren't doing anything wrong.

"Is the wedding celebration over?" she called when her horse came within earshot. The men looked up startled. One of them burst out with nervous laughter, and they rest joined with slow chuckles. She did not like these men one bit.

"Aye," one of the men answered, nudging a neighbor with his elbow. "The celebration is long over." The men shared a knowing smile, and Arya felt herself go cold. She did not want to speak to these men, they were obviously Frey men and she needed to find her family. They would stay for a few days to help settle the new marriage, unlike the majority of revelers.

"Where can I find the Starks?" she asked. The men chuckled again. One pointed in the general direction of the walls. They were staying in the keep as guests. Good, Arya hadn't slept on a proper bed in ages. She rode on noticing as she approached the vast number of crows that circled the keep. What an ill omen for a new marriage. She didn't notice the heads until she was almost within earshot. She pulled up on her reins halting the horse in its tracks. The top of the wall was decorated with bloody heads. There were too many to count, but her eye was drawn almost instantly to the lone body on the walls. It was mounted like a hunting trophy arms outstretched. She felt the bile rise in her throat as she recognized her brother's armor topped by the head of her brother's wolf. The retched onto the ground next to her horse.

A kindly old lady looked up at her as she passed, smiling sadly.

"Tis right gruesome it is. Everyone of them Northerners slaughtered except the groom," the women felt the need to explain.

Arya tried not to sound hopeful as she asked, "Even the women?" The women glanced away but nodded.

All at once everything hit her. Mycah. Nymeria. Father. Bran. Rickon. Robb. Mother. Sansa captive. Jon at the wall. Gendry gone. She had no one. She had no where.

And in that moment, as she realized she had nothing in this world left to live for, Arya Stark breathed her last breath.

***

Cat didn't know what she was doing or where she would go, but when she showed her coin to the men at the docks and spoke the words Jaqen had taught her, people listened. They treated her as if she was someone, and she would follow that feeling to the ends of the earth.

***

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
